


Trance, trance, adorned ruins

by Cloudsandblues



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Feelings, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Iwaizumi Hajime - Freeform, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Angst, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Fluff, Long-lost friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Pining Oikawa Tooru, Post-Time Skip, Tooru and Hajime in love, Tooru carrying the weight of his feelings like Atlas shouldering the world, friends to near strangers, lots of descriptions of feelings, lots of feelings, oikawa tooru - Freeform, overuse of metaphors and descriptions, quite melodramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudsandblues/pseuds/Cloudsandblues
Summary: The flow of time. The adoration, adulation, and worship held in the folds and creases of his heart and running in waves under his skin, never ceasing to make his blood leap, pulsate and shudder. His fingers tremble.Tooru and Hajime meet after years being apart to fullfill their promise.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	Trance, trance, adorned ruins

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a frenzy after listening to "Teach Me How To Love" two days ago on my way to work. Huh.  
> Also I wrote 90% instead of working lel plz don't tell my boss.
> 
> More seriously, as an old, old iwaoist, never did I think that I would end up writing them one day. They have lived rent free in my mind for so long that I am afraid to write them and not do them justice.  
> Thank you Tooru and Hajime for the endless sparks of creativity, for making me write after a slump of 98 years, and for living in my head and helping me through adulthood for 5-6 years now. 
> 
> NB: please beware that this is un-beta-read, and that ENG isn't my native tongue.
> 
> Thank you for anyone who reads.

_Memories. Summers in the sweltering heat spent chasing dreams. The smell of the sun and the youth of their bodies._

_The flow of time. The adoration, adulation, and worship held in the folds and creases of his heart and running in waves under his skin, never ceasing to make his blood leap, pulsate and shudder. His fingers tremble._

_The love that mingles with his blood and runs like overflowing rivers in rainy seasons is just as relentless, unyielding and stubborn. It scrapes at his skin and leaves his cheeks flushed and his mind reeling with vivid emotions and memories like phantom rashes on a skin._

_Memories. Loud laughs and giggles on the road back home. Snacks and glances exchanged every break, fleeting touches like an obstinate tune. A pat on the back. A tap on the shoulder. A ruffling of the feather-like locks of hair. Fluent, faultless understanding of one another._

***

His sight is like a revelation. The discreet yet blinding aura that gently silhouettes the shape of his body is like a calling, enchanting him and forcing his gaze to ceaselessly come back to drink him. No sounds, no roaring of the audience, no enthusiastic pre-game phrases exchanged between his teammates, however important they are, could steer even an inch of his conscience from the delirious reverie this momentous encounter plunged him in.

Tooru’s intense, bewildered, near-haggard gaze didn’t go unnoticed by _him_. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his head from his red players to caste a glance at the Argentinean team. There, unfailingly, his eyes landed on his long-lost, complicated, not so stranger of a childhood friend-turned-rival, and forever love of his. Even from afar, and even with years of being deprived of his sight, he still recognized, like a constant reminder, the youthful features of his friends under the layers of the years gently carving his face and rendering him mesmerizing. He carried his figure, even more define and more regal, with poised grace. He seemed matured, fine and ripe like Hajime’s favorite fruit. Unconsciously, his lips turned up in a slight smirk at his ex-best friend. A challenge, a promise dully fulfilled by both.

“Bring it on” he mouthed, and Tooru snapped out of his feverish dreams and regained a semblance of balance. Right, the match, and his promise to beat the whole of Japan as a form of sweet revenge for his inexorable, long-winded struggles to reach his dreams. The loudness of the stadium crept into his ears as if he just emerged from underwater. Still, his drunk heart beat erratically like a tuned melody to Hajime’s presence, pleading to keep his attention on him, to come to him, to make him melt and remodel him with his hands.

 _Not now_ , Tooru scolded his emotions, trying to put back the seal and smother his feelings, fearing that he could do something stupid right this moment. With a last glance, he slowly, regretfully closed his eyes. There, behind his lids his _only one_ was standing. Finally, _finally,_ his heart sang. He turned away.

Slow, deliberate breaths. Slow, slow regaining of reason. He turned to his team and blended with them to sponge their enthusiasm and pre-game spirit and get back in the zone.

He played his best game.

***

The loud cheers, the blinding lights and the sheer immensity of the stadium made him giddy, as if inebriated, high on the adrenaline of the game and the win. Added to that, the feeling of finally stepping above and beyond his crippling insecurities, his past failures in the form of rivals he took down in a tenacious game just moments ago. He felt unsubstantial, as if removed from the confines of his body and freed from the limits of gravity.

He looked ethereal. Hajime couldn’t, he just couldn’t take his eyes off of him, even while consoling his team and pretending to listen to the head coach’s post game speech. Like moth to flame, his green irises locked on the beautiful shape of Tooru, and marveled at how success suited him, how winning was a snuggle fit on his broad shoulders like a warm cuddle, and how the joy of achieving a dream put a halo on his head. _Gods, could I get any mushier than this?_ Yet still, and with winded lungs and a parched throat, he stared, and stared, and stared at the _ethereal_ smile on Tooru’s face.

He couldn’t decipher where the sweetness of his Tooru-branded feelings of love and pride blended with the acre aroma of greed and regret at not standing openly and proudly besides him, sharing his best moments and smiles with this complicated, best-friend turned crush turned love turned borderline deleterious obsession of his.

***

Tooru couldn’t separate himself from the festivities of the win soon enough. His playmates, still high on adrenaline, animatedly chatted in the locker rooms. They suggested a group gathering to celebrate and get smashed. Their coaches still strongly objected and banned them from consuming too much alcohol, but gave them a reluctant approval to unwind for the night. However, Tooru couldn’t stay with them, he had made a promise to himself and to his long-waiting, ever patient and undying feelings to go to see Hajime as soon as his concentration is off of the one challenge he worked for his whole youth.

To extricate himself from his friends while heading out of the room was hard work, and many questions were thrown at him and left unanswered. Tooru, still emotional from the win, couldn’t speak; fearing that he would blurt some utter clichéd answer such as _I’m going to see my beloved_ , yet he couldn’t shut the hollers that followed his hasty disposal. _Jesus, get a grip!_ He chastises himself. He knew that now that his heart is free from the seals he imposed on his feelings it beat in a frenzy, agitated, troubled by vivid images of this meeting dreamed times and times again. His feet carried him to the team Japan room in a near feverish state. Slowing down, he put his fingers on his cheeks, they were hot. He could tell that a deep flush decorated his face and that he couldn’t control the trembling on his fingers, no matter how many times he clenches and unclenches them.

Reaching the closed door of the other team's locker room, he stalled. He didn’t think it through after all. Leaning back on the wall next to the door, he threw his head back and gently knocked it on the wall. To make sure he didn’t miss Hajime, he didn’t even take a shower, only putting his jacket over after unceremoniously washing his face and wiping some sweat off with his towel. He most definitely smelled gross, probably even looked gross with damp, disheveled hair and scarlet red face. _Stupid_ , he looked stupid. Hajime would probably laugh at his face and send him away the second he sees him, and all his imaginary castles will tumble down in a pitiful performance of _stupid_ heartbreak that his _stupid_ , stupid stubborn heart has deliberately ignored for years and years, preferring to nurture fruitless, immune, steel-strong, everlasting love despite the glaring signs before him.

But he promised, he promised himself to face Hajime with his feelings and put an end to his pinning the next time they meet, and frankly, carrying the weight of his one-sided, silent love for his precious, adored best-friend and proceeding to obstinately revere in it got hard at times. It just took a toll on his nerves and put the traitorous weight of hopeful longing and delirious expectations on his shoulders. And so he wanted to kill his dreams for once, he felt the need to come to terms with this feverish dream, lest it consumed him completely, leaving him in the forever mercy of illusions.

Yet, a part of him is mourning the upcoming loss of the sweet mirage of having a loved one and thinking they could be reached, they _would_ be his one day, _one day._ This part of him was currently giving him second thoughts, to flee and go back to the hazy security of his fantasies, to keep the flame of hope ablaze within him. Conflicted, he was about to go back to gather his thoughts when the door suddenly yanked open and a flock of freshly showered athletes ejected from it in a wild, disorganized heap. The sudden burst of energy jerked Tooru from his spiraling thoughts as he jolted, facing the rivals he just beat now that are looking at him in a mix of surprise, recognition, respect and mockery.

Still jittery from his emotional turmoil, he stuttered, not knowing what to say or to do, still attempting to find his bearings.

“Oikawa-san?”

Kageyama advanced to him with surprise on his face. Of course he didn’t expect to see his rival and well-regarded senpai so soon after their game. He looked grim yet impressed as he tried to find words to say.

“Tobio-chan, good game” Tooru managed to say. At a glance, he could say that their athletic trainer wasn’t with them, and that quickly sobered him up. “Have you seen ha…iwa… Iwaizumi?”

“Hajime-san?” sneered a blondie standing next to Kageyama “And why would you want him?”

“Miya-san… Oikawa-san is Iwaizumi-san’s friend” helpfully informed Kageyama.

“Let’s go guys, why are we standing here?” muttered another grumpy player.

“Oikawa-san!!”Hinata, the last one to head out the door, looked genuinely happy to see Tooru despite the recent loss. “It’s nice to see you again! You were amazing!”

“Thanks, Hinata-chan” managed Tooru. It was nice to see some of them, but he wished someone would guide him already, he was tired and cold and he started severely doubting that he could face Hajime and talk to him properly at this state.

“Oikawa-san… Iwaizumi-san went with the coaches to the cafeteria…” Kageyama finally answered.

“…oh! Thanks, Tobio-chan! … and … I was happy to play against you again” Tooru said with sincerity. Ever since seeing Hajime, some weird switch flipped in him, and from the sniping, aloof, unfazed and composed player, he became soft, nervous, and emotional. _Gods, what have you done to me_ , he whispered while hurrying to the dining area, _I have yet to exchange a word with you and you already made me so pathetic, so … melty_.

***

_There you are._ Sure, like a lighthouse in the dimness of an eternal night, Hajime’s presence shone in the hall, stunning and so, so handsome even from afar, rendering Tooru’s gaze misty and his feet wobbly while only his obstinate strong-headedness managed to push him until he was within Hajime’s field of view. And sure, Hajime spotted him as soon as he could, and so Tooru, gathering his courage, managed to beckon him over. Hajime fixated an open-mouthed expression on him for a couple of seconds, as if not recognizing, or not expecting any form of Tooru nearly soon enough, then he exchanged some words with the two people he was with before heading towards him.

Tooru chose to silently guide him to a secluded area outside of the hall. There, in the vastness and impartiality of the corridor, he found a nook behind some stairs that could swallow them in the shadows. Hajime followed him a couple of paces behind without uttering a word, although only his slightly heavy breathing and strong footsteps managed to manhandle Tooru’s heartbeat into a frenetic, sporadic tune, fitting with the tremors of his fingers and the chanting of his merciless feelings. _He is here, he is here!_ They seem to purr. Taking a deep breath, he stopped under the staircase and slowly, resolutely turned to face Hajime.

To say that his heart leapt to his throat was an understatement. The surprise of seeing him standing there, purposefully putting those honey eyes on him provoked such a vice effect on his body, something in the abruptness made him feel nauseous with nerves. He was just conversing with the coaches about the freshly completed game, dissecting the play and what they should concentrate on for the sake of a future win, when Tooru manifested like the otherworldly appearance he is. Still in his game outfit, with adorably disheveled hair and rosy skin, like an offering to Hajime’s prayers, he stood there. Then, he lifted his arm to gesture at him. What could he do? _What could he do_ besides numbly following this enchantment, even if it would escort him to his doom? _And what a pleasant, satisfying way to fall it would be._

 _Like an angel,_ Hajime’s mushy, corny, utterly embarrassing mind managed to fill in as information while he was dazedly following Tooru. His nicely shaped back figure viciously attracted him like magnet, and he ardently wanted to succumb to the magnetism and approach, reach, touch, _attach and glue_ himself to this alluring back form. Stick his face in the crook of the shoulder and neck and breath in the smell of nostalgia and love, the smell of suns and summers and vanilla and Tooru, stick his chest to the back muscles softly swelling under the shirt like waves formed by the breeze, stick his hands to the tight hips that quietly swayed with the rigid pace of his walk, he wanted to stick, hold and never let go, seize in a iron grip this man in front of him and claim him in a bestial instinct to be his forever.

Soon enough, Tooru has stopped somewhere, tearing him out of his fanatical spiel. He realized that his jaw was tightly set and that he was slightly grinding his teeth as if in a rage. He quickly relaxed his expression and faced Tooru.

Who finally, _finally_ turned to him.

_Had he always had such a gorgeous, adorable, strikingly attractive face?_

“…hey”

“… Tooru…”

With a small smile and slightly heavy-lidded eyes, Tooru braced himself. He was a man on a mission, and no matter how violent is the onslaught of emotions that whip him the more he looks at his friend-turned-love-turned-downright-obsession-turned-life-long-fever-dream, he will plow through and carry it to the bitter end.

“Hajime, I am glad we fulfilled our promise. You _are_ my greatest rival”

 _You are my greatest everything. Your mere existence is my salvation._ He didn’t say it. It was too much too soon.

Hajime was still immobile, looking at him with parted lips and a wide-eyed expression akin to surprise.

Hajime was in awe. He couldn’t say anything coherent; he couldn’t _think_ anything coherent past the jumbled mess of his emotions. It was nearly too much for him, seven years couldn’t possibly prepare him for this moment. To stand in front of Tooru after nourishing countless dreams, invoking him countless times in his most depraved fantasies, caressing with hungry hands and a violent desire the shape of his absent body and burning inside from the feeling of abandonment and yearning. How could he, after years of gradual, bitter estrangement, come back and sway him from his steel resolve of letting go of his feelings so easily?

He remembers the heartbreaks. The heartbreak of seeing off your childhood other half going away to the other part of the world to chase his dreams, and how Tooru’s face contorted in a mix of farewell smile and I-want-to-stay tears flooding his face like a manic guise. He remembered the openly displayed feelings of love, longing, sadness and hopelessness his Tooru showed him before parting, before he came to terms with his own conflicting emotions and unnatural attachment. He remembers the heartbreak of letting go, of thinking _I should have asked him to say,_ of repeating _after all I am in love with him and him too, I am sure of it._ He remembers it vividly, since the scorching burn of Tooru’s avoidance after his departure is still branded everywhere on in skin, prickling at every unanswered call and every cold words of politeness and empty well wishes exchanged. He remembers his confusion, his anger, his fury, his hatred, his despair, his grief, and his tears, his crying over these stupid ill-fated feelings, and how he felt as if he missed his chances, as if he came too late and that he lost his Tooru to the vastness of the earth and cruelty of forgetfulness.

Steeling himself, he tried to summon as much level-headedness as he could. He reminded himself that this enthralling call is but a mirage he will soon be brutally awoken from, and that Tooru probably only called him as a form of ritual you do when you meet old acquaintances.

“Yeah. Likewise, you played well. You deserve your win this time”

He tried to be as impartial as possible, and for that, he chose to avert his eyes from the lovely honey-brown of Tooru’s. However, his traitorous, hungry eyes kept drinking, gobbling up any corner of Tooru’s face. As if fearing not to see him again, his brain filed many details in mere second: the slightly more defined crinkles in the corner of his almond shaped eyes, the more pronounced small freckles adorning the cute shape of his button nose, the shine of sweat in his temples, the small dimples on kissable cheeks, the defined yet delicate looking jaw, the plump lips never failing to upturn in whatever type of smile. Everything, everything was worth looking at, gazing at, _marveling at_.

Traitorous, traitorous mind chose to omit years of longing, disappointment and loss for a speck of a chance that this man could throw at him and that he would fall on his knees for.

At his reply, Tooru’s vision brightened. He properly hears Hajime’s voice after years of it only echoing on the corners of his memories, behind closed eyes and wandering mind. How could one moment with this man put Tooru in so much emotional turmoil is still beyond him. Hajime’s eyes were still on him, cold green and warm gaze even more alluring with time, and he realized that he could love Hajime in every form, every appearance and every nature that the stars and flow of time could shape him into. Tooru wishes that his emotions were not so glaring on his face, because he feared he would frighten Hajime by the sheer intensity of them.

But Hajime was still there, present and silent, beckoning him to talk to know why he called him over.

“Right… thank you” _steel your nerves for God’s sake,_ Tooru muttered. Take a deep breath.

He plunged.

“Hajime… there are things I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now… you probably will think that I am a creep for holding onto things for years, and I am probably foolish… but it doesn’t make my feelings any less real. And so I wanted you to know, for some kind of closure maybe.”

At this point, Tooru’s trembling fingers were clenching at the hem of his jacket. The light bite of the zipper on his skin calmed him enough to plow through his jumbled thoughts, but he couldn’t look at Hajime in the face. He was scared, so, so scared now that he was in front of him, and even if he steeled himself for some form of rejection, his heartbeat was loud, erratic, and menacing. His heart didn’t want to wake yet, far too gone in the depth of this pool of exquisite warmth called Iwaizumi Hajime and too drown to wish for any salvation. Even now he feels the moisture of his feverish love glazing over his eyes.

Hajime, on the other hand, was boiling with the lava of emotions and ready to burst. He couldn’t believe that the same Tooru that bid him farewell with too much of an _adieu_ taste at the airport many years ago was standing here and now, probably trying to reveal the reason why he severed any kind of bond between them.

“Oikawa… what do you mean?” he spoked with an unsteady voice. He could feel that his face morphed into anger by now, brows heavily scrunched and downturned lips showing displeasure. In fact, he didn’t want to hear what Tooru has to say anymore, fearing that he couldn’t handle it. “Are you telling me you’re finally going to grace me with an answer as to why you abandoned our bond all those years ago? Isn’t it too late for that now?” he managed to say, scoffing at the end.

_Too late._

“You’re right… I don’t have the right to talk anymore because I cut you off…” tears quickly gathered in Tooru's eyes at the harshness of Hajime’s voice. He couldn’t believe he was this frail, this _weak_ to the smallest of Hajime’s emotions.

With his face down, Hajime didn’t realize the distress Tooru was in until he heard discreet sniffles that completely sobered him up and left his mind reeling. _How could you make him cry_ , his instincts howled at him and demanded him to fix it. He felt guilty and angry at himself for his dismissive response, and so he quickly muttered:”It’s okay’ _it was not_. “it’s in the past now, yeah? Don’t get worked up about it” no, _no_. Hajime’s was still obviously hung on it, the gaping hole in the form of a gentle, hard-working, dream-like honey boy is still festering up inside him.

At his words Tooru looked up, his big caramel-chocolates still melting on rosy cheeks. “Sorry” whispered Hajime reverently “I didn’t want to make you cry”. His hand jerked towards him, as if wanting, needing to touch, reassure, hold, caress him until he’s content and happy. But he couldn’t, not when he doesn’t know the definition of their link anymore.

Not even if there is any form of connection between them anymore, now that they fulfilled their last promise.

So he waited. He waited for Tooru to regain his composure and continue.

Hajime’s beautifully expressive eyes screamed concern, guilt and alarm, and Tooru found in the openness of his face an invitation to listen to him, to understand, and probably to accept what he’ll say. Hajime has always been like that, marveled Tooru, he’s always been so soft, so kind hearted and warm like a gentle hug. He’s always been attentive and responding to Tooru’s emotions, no matter the disguise he chooses to express the gentleness of his gold heart. How could a person be so beautiful, so bewitching inside and out is beyond him.

A couple seconds after he dried his tears, he inhaled and finally said:

“Hajime… The truth is I’ve only looked at you. Even afar, you lived in my mind like my safe haven. You are constantly in my dreams, and when I wake up, I follow through my day with our times together as an ever-lasting trance" Tooru exhaled a small, rueful laugh "You probably think I am delusional, or obsessive, but I truly, truly only dream of you. You are my _dream_.”

He didn’t realize that he was crying again, and that he was choking on his words. But his frenzied mind couldn’t be sated no matter how he chose to express himself. Not nearly enough to describe how the sheer existence of Hajime shapes his dreams and his days, and that Tooru made it to the gold medal with the shadow of Hajime keeping him afloat, and the promise of his recognition and accepting as his ultimate calling.

He couldn’t begin to describe that there wasn’t _a day_ in Argentina where Hajime didn’t live with him.

But the utter silence his declaration met made him gradually lose control over his thoughts. Was Hajime grossed out? Perhaps he just didn’t understand why Tooru was sharing with him this part of his life that he kept to himself until now, after practically cutting him off for years and only exchanging polite, superficial words from time to time.

“… I swear that I didn’t want to ignore you or cut you off… it’s just that the first few months of separation were so bad for me that I couldn’t handle it, and so I didn’t have a choice but to distance myself from you, otherwise I could have abandoned my chances at being a pro-player to come back and be with you. Do you understand?” then a murmur: “I didn’t want you to be disappointed…”

Hajime didn’t. He didn’t understand why did Tooru think that detachment was the best solution. But he knew his best friend, he knew he was the type to get attached and overly affectionate, and that he has trouble dealing with his over-sensitiveness and overflowing emotions, leading to bad behavior more often than not. _He knew that_ , yet he couldn’t completely just accept his explanation as an excuse for putting him through loss.

So he just says so:

“No, I don’t get you Oikawa! Why would you do that and think it’s the best thing for us? Wouldn’t it be much, much better if we just _talked_? If you just told me your fears and worries, I could’ve done something! But ditching me only meant that you didn’t _care_. You have to understand that I am not in your head and reading what you think and what you feel” he was conscious that his voice was getting louder and louder and that it could attract unsolicited audience to their conversation, but he couldn’t refrain it. He was frustrated, angry, exasperated. But most of all, he was hurt, deeply, viciously by Tooru’s ebbs and flows, and having the source of his wounds in front of him was the perfect chance to strike back some nasty blows through the vessel of words. He knew it was very low of him, but his instincts roared and wailed with sorrow, and not even Tooru’s declaration of love could calm it down. _Wait_ , was it? Was Tooru telling him that he has, or had feelings for him?

Hajime took a small step back. His face was contorted in a sneer born from the blend of hurt and hatred that was the shape of his twisted love for Tooru.

“I don’t get you… I seriously don’t. Why are you telling me this now?” he managed to level his voice. His breathing was still winded from his previous yelling, and in front of him Tooru looked like a trembling leaf drenched in the icy winter rains.

He didn’t stop crying, even as he was talking, and when he saw that Hajime completely changed stances, took a step back in a form of dismissal, he couldn’t move an inch. His knees weakened as much as his resolve and his heart screamed at him for screwing up. _You shouldn’t have faced him, you shouldn’t, you idiot, we could’ve kept blissfully drowning in the sweetness of Hajime’s memories and all would be good, even if you could be waiting for a chance that would never come._

“…I … I didn’t mean to…” he hiccupped. He knew that he has hurt Hajime by cutting him off for years. He knew that his friend was going to resent him for it. But in his mind, he knew he couldn’t fathom being away from Hajime and would find himself in the next flight to Japan at the mere sight of his smile through the screen. But now he needed to make amends. He had to.

Hajime scoffed. “Of course you didn’t, because you were only thinking of yourself. You are only in your head and you don’t consider how your actions could hurt other’s feelings”.

Tooru hung his head in shame. He closed his eyes and took a trembling hand to his cheek to dry his cold tears and attempt to regain some composure.

Something in the scene of Tooru wiping his rose-gold cheeks and sofly biting his lower lip to stop his quivers fascinated Hajime. Momentarily, he forgot his anger and just stared at the reverence of this sight: this very private, only for him sight of Tooru fragile, weeping and remorseful. Cheeks smeared with tears _for him_ , skin shivering from the flow of his feelings _for him_ that run underneath, little hiccups and whimpers reluctantly leaving his bitten red lips to come _to him_ , eyes shifty and downturned for fear of _looking at him_.

Truly, there is something morbid and Hajime’s intuition has only ever wanted to make Tooru _his_. 

“Please forgive me” Tooru suddenly said after drying his cheeks and calming his sobs. Still in the trance of possessing Tooru’s being, Hajime was taken aback by the sudden request. _What_?

“What?” is all he managed to say.

Tooru finally, finally lifted his face back up. His eyes were still closed. He said: “Please, forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know I had a warped sense of self-preservation but I never wanted to discard or leave or forget about you. I couldn’t and I didn’t want to. I still don’t want to. I told you, _you are my dream_.” Hardened by his words, Tooru didn’t realize that he had took a step forward and grasped the left arm of Hajime’s sleeve with tight fingers. He was looking right through his eyes with pleading, glassy, _captivating_ caramels while chanting his siren song to forever seize Hajime’s heart as his.

“You don’t know how much things I owe you because just the thought of you made me work harder and be stronger. Surely you know…" His brows curved up in a pleading form as he continued, lips forming for the first time the syllables of his favorite word: "Iwa-chan,... ever since we were kids, I always, always looked up to you. In my mind’s heart, all my roads would lead to you. Please, Iwa-chan, understand me like you always did, and let me hope that you will come back to me. Just… just give me a chance, tell me what should I do to make things right and I will. _I will do it._ ”

Hajime too, instinctively put his hand around Tooru’s wrist and lightly squeezed, as if to ensure that he was present. That he was here, asking, _imploring_ to come back to his life.

There was a moment where they just kept looking at each other, eyes with dilated irises communicating what words couldn’t explain with the rudiments of language. Cold green to warm honey. And there was no need for more.

Slowly, Hajime lifted his free hand to cup Tooru’s cheek. It was warm, but the remnants of tears were icy cold and bit his skin, as if to reprimand him for making Tooru cry so much. His lips were slightly parted, as were Hajime’s, for every time he gazed upon the lovely face of Tooru he seemed to fall into either a state of amazement of a trance of possessiveness. But Tooru’s eyes reflected a similar feeling, as if not realizing that he was real, that he wasn’t in yet another dream of them, and that this moment would be, unlike his years-long one sided illusions of love, very much shared in both their recollections.

“Tooru…” Hajime’s voice was raspy “I am in love with you”.

Finally, _finally_ , after times trapped in his heart, his feelings, this love turned obsession turned fever dream he only could mutter in the depths of starless, murky nights, burst and popped like fireworks in dark canvas.

And like fireworks illuminations, these words brightened, glowed, flushed Tooru’s face, whose eyes widened and glittered like sparks, and his cheeks puffed with the stretch of a shy, small but growing, blinding, delicate smile full of teeth and love and adoration “Iwa-chan!” he whispered, unbelieving, happy, elated, giddy. “Iwa-chan!” he repeated and repeated. Because for him this word wasn’t just a nickname. It was all his affection, his adoration, his love and devotion resumed in one “Iwa-chan…!”

Hajime was smiling too. A radiant, brilliant, fond smile like a pavlovian response to Tooru’s happiness. He couldn’t help it, he was already conditioned long ago to tune with the febrile rhythm of Tooru’s musical heart. He couldn’t deny himself the feeling of happiness that seeped from Tooru’s flesh to puncture his and make his insides melt.

Was everything forgotten and excused just with one smile? No, not really, Hajime was yet to forgive this stupid beautiful love of his for his shortcomings, but it doesn’t deter him from putting it besides for now, he wanted to let him know that he was in love, and utterly so, while he still grasped him in his arms, fearing to let this chance go again and never have him back.

He didn’t want to relive the same regret again.

So he repeats while cupping both Tooru’s cheeks and drawing his face near his “I am so, so in love with you Tooru … you don’t know how my infatuation with you runs so deep in me that it brings back to the surface my most shameful nature”

Up close, Hajime’s iridescent irises were so open that Tooru could positively drown and never emerge. When was the last time they were this close? Impulse makes it hard to concentrate on words. Tooru could be telling Hajime _no, Iwa-chan doesn’t have a shameful bone in him. Iwa-chan is so pure, so innocent and unsullied; he doesn’t even have one weakness in my eyes._

Instead, what he does is gently brush his still smiling lips with Hajime’s.

The effect was immediate. The vibrations run like electric shock under their skins, jolting their bodies and setting them alight. Hajime’s instincts, more visceral, more gnawing, were fully awoken by the kiss. A second after he sensed Tooru's lips on his, he let go of Tooru’s cheeks and put his hand on his neck to guide him closer and push their lips flush together, and he wormed his other arm around Tooru’s tight waist to take him to the back corner, the most dimly lit place in their makeshift love nest.

Their lips were still connected, and Hajime deliberately took steps forwards until Tooru’s back hit the wall.

And there, he proceeded to devour him.

Tilting his face, he unceremoniously pried open Tooru’s lips with gentle pushes of his tongue. Tooru, overwhelmed by being manhandled and by the sudden moist touch, opened up in a show of submission, sensing that Hajime was slowly heating up from inside out. He couldn’t stop the whimper that left him the moment he touched the wall and opened his lips, a sound to which Hajime reacted by finally, _finally_ pulling their bodies flush together. His arm on Tooru’s waist made Tooru’s chest and belly stick out slighty in a beautiful curve to which Hajime _glued_ himself to. The touch was almost too much, Tooru couldn’t stop his whimpers, feeling delirious from the embrace, the kiss, the prodding of Hajime’s tongue on his mouth that he barely could match, mind too reeling from the sensations of tongue, lips, and _Hajime’s body on his_. Strong chest slowly moving on his, strong arms trapping him in a hot embrace, and the smell, this cherished, familiar smell of best friend, of nostalgia, of _belonging_.

Tooru was overwhelmed. His senses were vividly assaulted while for years he lived only through the touch of dreams and the embrace of memories. And while his mind was nurtured, his body and senses were so, so parched that he was afraid he couldn’t let go. He seized Hajime by the back of his shirt and clenched his fingers, as if in an attempt to keep him this close until their end.

Tongues and teeth clashed, lips briefly parted only to come back to suck and bite and stroke with vengeance, tears strained blushing cheeks and moans and sighs adorned this very private space like tinsels. Then, Hajime finally unwound after an eternity of kissing, sucking and biting his long lost best friend on the lips, on the neck, on the cheeks then back on the lips again, and again. He could not get enough of tasting his smell and his skin, nor could he get enough of drinking his moans and sobs like the dried up wolf he was. But he could feel that Tooru was overwhelmed and had trouble breathing, and so he slowed down, only pecking, and pecking, and gently laying kisses across his face while loosening his grip on his waste and putting instead his hand on his back to gently stroke him.

“I love you… you’re so gorgeous, so beautiful…” he kept muttering almost unconsciously between kisses and caresses, taking deep whiffs of Tooru’s smell on the skin of his neck, his cheeks, his hair. “Gorgeous… gorgeous Tooru…” he kept almost groaning, as if to proceed to make Tooru melt with his hands and to reshape him to his liking.

Tooru, still whimpering and blubbering, was having more trouble gathering his words. He was still clenching Hajime’s back, still making sure that he wasn’t dreaming, that Hajime, love of his, dearest childhood friend and worshipped dream of his, was embracing him and loving him in flesh and blood.

Lingering, stretched thin imagination of his love suddenly snapped and cracked to make room for reality. It couldn’t be… but it was, wasn’t it? He was real, here and now, and Hajime’s sent was present, and his broad hands were on his back, he wasn’t in an umpteenth hallucination that will disappear like smoke once he opens his eyes, _right_?

But he did, he slowly opened his lids. And sure enough he was here. Hajime’s face was still on his, and his warm lips still on his brow, murmuring, gently kissing.

It was real.

“iwa-chan… me too, I love you, I love you so much” he cried.

“I know” Hajime whispered back.

“I promise to be good” he tightened his arms around his very real Hajime to never let him go. 

“Okay” Hajime softly answered.

“I promise I will make it up to you. I will do anything you want, just for Iwa-chan to stay with me this time” he put his face on Hajime's warm neck and sobbed with relief. the globe-shape heaviness on his shoulders finally shed.

To which Hajime repeated “Okay”.

The mist of delusion dispersed from his feverish mind, and Tooru’s sunny smile was blinding to the sight.

***

**Author's Note:**

> If you read until the end, thank you !!  
> Please leave me your impression and thoughts if possible. I'll be happy to receive them !


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